


Long Term Borrowing

by ironfamjam



Series: Irondad Bingo [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, Fluff, Gen, Irondad Bingo 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironfamjam/pseuds/ironfamjam
Summary: Okay, so maybe Peter has a collection of Tony's shirts. And maybe he was probably supposed to return them at some point. But he'd get around to it. Eventually. He refuses to call it theft.Except that it probably totally is.Or, 5 times Peter wears Tony's shirt and the 1 time Tony wears his.Irondad Bingo Prompt: Peter Wears Tony's Sweatshirt





	Long Term Borrowing

**1\. The Hoodie**

Peter really hadn’t meant to rip the suit. It had just- happened. Out of nowhere. Except fine, maybe it wasn’t that out of nowhere. But still. And if the rip happened partly because of a stab wound then that was neither here nor there really. It was just a slash anyway. Nothing a few stitches wouldn’t fix. Maybe some rest. Possibly a bandage. 

Except, he has none of that at home. And May would just…oh god the yelling. And the panicking. And the berating. So the tower then…except. Peter groans. Just as much yelling, and panicking, and oh the berating. 

Ok so he dies then. 

Peter considers that for a split second before groaning. Alright, fine. Tower it is. Tony would just call May anyway and snipe about him on the group chat so he could see it later and feel bad. So the whole situation is utterly unavoidable and with great chagrin, he swings his way to the tower. 

By the time he reaches his destination, he’s panting from exertion, tears pricking his eyes, his pain threshold now hitting unsustainable proportions. All he really wants are some pain meds and a hug. Maybe two. He sits on the Medbay examination table waiting for the tell-tale door slam and an urgent Tony and isn’t disappointed. “Peter! What happened!” Tony rushes at him, hands patting down his arms and side to see where it hurt. 

Pale faced and dizzy, Peter stills finds it in him to say, “I’ve been impaled?” 

Tony’s face turns murderous, but his concern ultimately wins out. He peels the suit off as Bruce walks in through the door, snapping medical gloves on. “Hey Peter, fancy seeing you here again.”

“Hey Dr. Banner. Long time no see.”

“Not long enough.” Tony mutters, fretting around him as Bruce wipes his wound down.

“Are you okay? How’s the pain?” Tony asks, already moving to grab the pills Bruce had made special for times like these.

“Maybe just one.” Peter calls out and Tony returns with a cup of water and red gel pill.

Peter swallows it down and then winces as he feels the needle thread through him. Unable to control it, he whimpers, squeezing his fingers around the paper of the examination table. Tony’s expression falls, looking like he wished he could take the pain instead. “You’re gonna be okay Pete. Just a little more. You can do it.”

Peter’s fingers tremble and Tony takes them in his own. His grip around Peter’s hand is firm and Peter savors the strength of it. Seeps himself into it. Strong. Strong. He was strong. He could be strong. 

Finally, Bruce ties off the last stitch, taping a bandage to his side and giving him the all clear. “Knowing you, this will heal right up tomorrow night at the latest. Just don’t strain yourself till then okay?”

“Should I give him more meds? Disinfectant?” Tony presses, still holding onto Peter’s hand.

Bruce gives him a little smile, shaking his head. “He’s fine Tony. You can calm down now. His biggest problem is his suit now.”

As though he’s finally noticed it, Tony lets go of Peter’s hand to push his fingers through the sizeable tear in the fabric. Giving him a flat stare, Peter can only chuckle awkwardly. “I can fix it?” 

“ _No_. What you’re going to do is rest. What _I’m_ going to do is fix this and get you something to wear so you’re not just chilling in half a spidersuit.”

Tony comes back a bit later with some sweats and a well worn hoodie. Peter pulls it up, unable to help his smile as the faded MIT logo comes into view. “Doesn’t this belong in an antique store? It has to be at least a hundred years old.” he teases and Tony glares.

“Oh hahah, look at you, feeling all better now.”

“What can I say? It’s the good company.” Peter beams and pats himself on the back in his head when Tony cracks a smile, turning away. 

“Do you need help with the hoodie, or can you lift your arms okay?” 

Peter tests the waters, raising his arms slowly. He winces, but shoulders through the pain, slipping the sweater on, though not without a bit of hassle. “No, it’s okay.”

Tony looks away to let him put on his pants and when he turns around, he has the oddest look on his face. Peter’s hair is mussed, sticking up in places it shouldn’t, the hoodie baggy over his smaller frame, hands stuffed deeply into the centre pocket. Tony almost looks…emotional. Verging on pride and nostalgia. “What is it?” Peter asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Tony shakes his head. Smiles. “Nothing. I just saw you grown up all of a sudden.” 

Peter’s face scrunches in that way it always did when he got embarrassed or put on the spot. “I’m not that young you know.” he mumbles. 

“You’re a baby. Every fifteen year old thinks they’re old beyond their years. I _am_ old, and I’m telling you you’re nowhere close.” Tony laughs, moving to help Peter get off the table.

“Ok maybe I’m not old but I’m not a _baby_.” 

“Well you sure are swimming in that hoodie.” Tony teases and Peter half-heartedly elbows him in the rib.

“ _Hey_.”

“I’m kidding. It suits you kid. Really.” And Tony sounds so genuine Peter believes him.

Peter lets Tony help him down the hall to set him gently down onto the couch. He tells Peter to pick a movie while he calls May to fill her in. His aunt is, understandably, on a warpath when she hears. She promises to lecture Peter till his ears bleed when he comes home and then proceeds to tell Tony off for being too soft.

“You’re putting a movie for him as we speak aren’t you.” she accuses.

Tony whirls around, peering into every corner, “Do you have this place _bugged_??”

“No. I just know you’re giant softie. Oh sure, just leave the lecturing to May.” she drawls and Tony winces, but he’s trying really hard not to laugh.

“Hey! I think I did ok. Peter, tell your lovely aunt that you feel properly chastised.”

“I feel properly chastised.” Peter says dutifully and he can practically see May’s unimpressed frown. 

“Uh huh. Alright. I’ll come pick you up with Happy after we’re done okay?”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

“ _Peter_.”

“Yeah Peter.” Tony says, enjoying Peter’s petulant glower. 

“Don’t get into any more trouble you two. I’ll be there by the time your movie wraps up.” 

“Yes May.” they reply together, both used to just being told what to do by Peter’s fearsome aunt. 

Tony sits next to him on the couch, double checking he was feeling okay and that he didn’t need another pill. After the millionth assurance that he was okay, Tony finally clicks play and the movie starts. Peter burrows deeper into the couch cushions, reveling in the feeling of the soft lining of the hoodie, finger absently tracing the textured text. He feels small inside it, held maybe. He feels cocooned from the world, warm and protected and safe. 

Maybe it’s the tower, maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s Tony. Invincible and undefeatable. There in a heartbeat, solution always at hand, never far behind. With Tony as his net, Peter could fly with no bounds. He’s limitless. 

Nothing bad can happen to him here. 

Peter snuggles deeper into the hoodie. 

 

 **2\. The T-Shirt**

Tony calls Peter as Decathalon practice is coming to a close. Apparently, he’s made a breakthrough in developing a new material for the Iron Spider’s piercers that Peter absolutely must come and check out immediately. “Already cleared it with May, just check the group chat for when she said you had to be home by, I totally jumped the gun.”

Peter snorts, “Wow, how unlike you.” 

“Hush you. And bring something salty. I’m having pregnancy style cravings right now.”

Slightly disturbed, but mostly entertained, Peter swings by a convenience store and picks up a bag of pretzels and some dried fruit because Tony might say he wanted salty but Peter knew how to trick him into eating something marginally healthy. 

Tony’s hard at work in the lab when Peter arrives, hunched over a holographic display of the suit. He doesn’t look up when he waves Peter over but stuffs his hand in the bag to fish out the snacks as soon as they’re in reach. “Bless you Parker.” Tony mumbles through crushed pretzels.

“Oh you know, I live to please. So, what we got?” 

“I’m trying to harden up the alloy without sacrificing flexibility, but the combination isn’t looking stable…” Tony glances at their 6 Days Since Last Disaster sign and sighs, “There’s only six more hours till the day is done, come on team.” 

Peter sits next to him, working out the various equations and safety checks and they’re working in a steady rhythm when Peter sets down his pen. “Honestly, I think we got it.” 

Tony twists his lip, looking at him and then the model. “Not too sure about that kiddo…”

“Oh come on, what else can we add? This _has_ to be the right one.” Peter insists and he’s flashing his most persuasive, oh so endearing face and Tony looks torn but then throws his hands up in defeat.

“Oh screw it. DUM-E’s on fire safety anyway. FRI, hit it.” 

The machine whirrs and a tip of gold appears, “Yes!! I knew it-” 

The explosion cuts him off. 

Tony throws himself over Peter, shoving him to the floor as smoke shoots up from the sizzling box. DUM-E screeches and Tony just drops his head in defeat as the fire extinguisher bursts around them, dousing them in white froth. 

Silently, FRIDAY changes the mechanical sign to 0 Days. 

Peter coughs, sitting up and looking around. “I mean…it could’ve been worse?” 

Tony glares. “ _Six more hours_.” he repeats, “ _SIX_.” 

Eventually, Tony picks himself up from the floor from his self-pity party and goes to grab Peter some extra clothes to wear considering his are 100% definitely out of commission. He throws Peter a black AC/DC t-shirt and some grey sweats, gesturing for him to run along and get changed. 

The hot water from the shower feels particularly good after all the stress of designing an actual explosion and by the time Peter gets out, the mess in the lab is all cleaned up and Tony’s back at work. Tony beckons him over to the work bench and hands him a sketchbook. “Let’s try this again shall we?” 

Peter’s totally in the groove of working, the low rock music in the back a steady background noise that keeps beat with the equations in his head. He’s bobbing his head slightly, scribbling away frantically when the door slides open. “Am I hallucinating or are there literally two Tony’s right now.” Rhodey jokes, leaning against the door frame. 

Peter blushes, not knowing where to look as Rhodey chuckles to himself. “No seriously. It’s like I’m looking at a carbon copy. Obsessed with the project in front of them to the point of being unhealthy? Check, bad rock band shirt, check. Messy hair and chip crumbs everywhere?” he smirks, “Check.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited to the party earlier sour patch.” Tony retorts, throwing a dried apricot at him.

Rhodey catches it effortlessly, popping it into his mouth and settling next to Tony. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just really jealous of all this quality time. Now show me what you got.” 

Together, they manage to figure out a better alternative and as Tony readies everything for the final production, Rhodey just looks at Peter and hides a smile.

Peter taps at his face, self-conscious. “What?” he asks, brows furrowed.

Rhodey shakes his head, but he still looks fond. “Nothing. You just remind me a lot of him. And it’s not just the wardrobe.” 

Peter feels the compliment warm him up right down to his toes. Unconsciously, his fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt and he imagines Tony wearing the same one working on the Iron Man suit or his new arc reactor or any other cool thing he’s ever made. It makes him feel unconventional, inventive and disruptive. It makes him want to try new things and not give a damn about what anyone else thought. 

Peter always cared too much. About what he said and how he said it and what every ripple his impact would be. Only when he was Spiderman would Peter feel like he had the confidence to just do what he wanted with no fear. Peter wanted to change the world. He wanted to fix it and save it and protect it and he couldn’t do any of that if he was shy and still trapped in his own skin. But Tony invented a new element in this shirt. He fought off a terrorist crime ring in this shirt. He became the best superhero in the world in this shirt. 

So when Peter heads out to go home he hopes Tony doesn’t notice he takes his shirt with him. Peter’s always been inspired by Tony. Since he was little. So he hoped Tony wouldn’t mind that Petr tried to take a little bit of that inspiration home with him. 

 

**3\. The Cardigan**

It’s snowing outside. The awkward period between the leaves falling and slipping on slush have given way to full on blizzards clogging up the streets and delayed traffic. Peter shivers pre-emptively, curling in on himself a little tighter on the couch, his shoulder just brushing Tony’s arm. They’re watching the season finale of Stranger Things and Tony’s uncharacteristically engrossed, hands clenched unconsciously into fists as Eleven faces off the Mind Flayer. 

Peter smiles to himself, ducking his head so Tony wouldn’t catch him being stupidly fond but Tony pushes into him, knocking their shoulders together. “If you ask me a million questions later because you weren’t paying attention, I’m not helping you.” 

“Rude.” Peter takes on a false airy cheer, “Guess I’m just unloved. Unwanted. Totally abandoned.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Eleven took down evil incarnate just now and wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you.”

Peter makes a face, gesturing adamantly to the screen, “She’s literally sobbing- right now- into Hopper’s arms. How isn’t that drama??”

“It’s _trauma_. There’s a difference.” 

Peter grabs a pillow and swats Tony’s arm, grinning when Tony’s mouth drops, scandalized. “Oh you’ve done it now Parker.” 

Tony grabs the pillow closest to him, an overstuffed rectangle perfect for flailing around and just rough enough it would actually _hurt_. 

Crap. 

Peter’s made a mistake. 

But Tony’s smiling wickedly and suddenly Peter’s rolling over the side of the couch, cheeks hurting from how hard he’s laughing as Tony chucks pillow after pillow at him. Peter gets one good swing in before he gets a pillow right in the face. Tony’s doubled over from laughing at Peter’s indignant pout. “What happened to your spidey sense??” Tony can barely get the words out from how hard he’s laughing. 

“I was distracted!!” Peter yells, trying to look sullen, but unable to hide the mirth in his eyes. 

“By my dashing good looks of course.” Tony strikes a pose and Peter snorts, throwing a pillow at him half-heartedly. 

“Oh yeah. For sure. That’s what it was.” Peter drawls. 

They stare at each other for a moment and Peter’s suddenly hyper aware of how hard he’s smiling. He looks away, feeling his heart boom with love. He loves it here. He really, truly, genuinely does. He loves the view from all the way up in the tower, loves how he can sprawl on the couch and still not reach the end, loves that Tony keeps his favourite snacks in the cupboard, loves seeing Tony throw his head back and laugh so hard his shoulders shake. 

Everything seemed to stress Tony out. And Peter made it his mission to try and brighten Tony’s day when he saw him. Just a little. And it’s when Tony’s shoulders drop as the giggles fade that Peter gets an idea. “Hey Mr. Stark, do you want some hot chocolate?”

Tony looks confused, but in a good way. “I had no clue we even _had_ hot chocolate.” 

“Oh you don’t. But I brought some last time because May bought like, five tons of it, at the Costco sale.”

Tony shakes his head, amused, “Your aunt and her sales.”

“Seriously.” Peter agrees, “And then I thought, there’s no way we can drink all of this. I mean, I totally could-” 

Tony winces, “Please _don’t_.”

“I’m not! That’s why I brought them here! I thought you and Miss. Potts could make some for your Christmas Party!”

And Tony’s smiling again. That same soft smile that made Peter want to bask in it. It felt like walking into a sunbeam, a stroke of warmth across your face. “That’s sweet of you kid. Pep’ll love it.” 

Peter grins, rushing to the kitchen to boil the milk. Tony gets up to follow him, rummaging through the cupboards. “I’m pretty sure we have marshmallows in here somewhere. Maybe some whipped cream.” 

“Wow. Gourmet.” Peter teases.

“It’s blasphemy to drink hot chocolate without marshmallows.” Tony retorts, sounding like he was reading straight from the bible.

“I mean, I agree.” Peter starts, “But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Well what you gotta do is let me pack in some marshmallows into your cup. And also buy some marshmallows?? I’m paying you a salary for a reason kid.” 

Peter sighs, sagging against the island counter top. “Ughhh Mr. Starkkkk.”

“Don’t Mr. Stark me. How much can a pack really cost? Five dollars??” 

“I’m saving for _college_.” 

The groan Tony makes rivals the rumbling of mountains. Volcanoes probably. “We’re not doing this again.” he announces.

“It’s too much if you pay for it!” Peter protests, head popping out from beneath his arms. 

“I can’t hear you.” Tony presses his hands against his ears, “Blah, blah, FRI you hear anyone talking?”

“Nothing at all boss. Maybe it’s just the wind?”

Tony smirks as Peter sputters indignantly. “ _Hey_.” 

“ _Hey_.” Tony mocks, turning off the stove and moving the pot of milk aside.

He pours the contents into two mugs and Peter smiles into his elbow as he sees it’s the pair he had bought Tony last Christmas. They’re super dorky. Like incredibly so. But they made Tony laugh so hard when he saw them that Peter knew they were worth every penny. The first one was a galaxy mug with a cat panicking throughout the cosmos. It had reminded Peter of all the tacky shirts Tony owned. The second was this super lame one he found at a tacky tourist gift shop which was weird considering it had nothing to do with New York at all. Instead, in the world’s ugliest font, WORLD’S NOT WORST BOSS. “I mean every word,” Peter had said, when Tony read it. 

“This is how you make the perfect hot chocolate.” Tony declares, swirling in the powder with panache before dropping in four marshmallows and topping it off with a swirl of whipped cream. 

He holds up a finger as Peter leaps up to take his cup before pulling out a grater and a bar of chocolate. Deliberately slow, Tony gives Peter a comically haughty grin as he spreads the grated chocolate over the cream. “Wow. Look at that. That’d be ten bucks at Starbucks.” 

Peter whistles. “No you’re right. Hot chocolate and three hour omelets? You really are a chef.” he teases and Tony frowns, blocking him from reaching his cup.

“No cocoa for ungrateful brats.” 

Peter snickers, trying again as Tony swats his hand away. “Aw come on Mr. Stark, I’m kidding. You’re great. Super great. You know I think you’re like, the coolest person ever.” 

Peter looks up expectantly and Tony looks one breath away from bursting into laughter. “No, no, please continue. You were saying how I inspired you every day?”

Peter rolls his eyes, grabbing his cup. “In your dreams maybe.” 

“Oh no. My dreams? No they typically involve a spiderkid you might know, except he takes care of himself and doesn’t get chronically injured and doesn’t give his poor old mentor a heart attack every five minutes.”

“Wow, he sounds great.” 

Tony shrugs. “Eh. He’s alright.” But when he takes a sip of his drink, he grins, and Peter sees a love greater than the universe inside. 

The snow blows down harder, the sky is streaked with white. When the last of the hot chocolate is gone and Peter feels warm right down to his toes, he glances at the time and quirks his lips. “I better head out now. Thanks for upgrading my hot chocolate Mr. Stark.” he jokes. 

“It’s what I do.” Tony replies with fake modesty. 

Peter packs up his things, swinging his backpack around when Tony makes a face. “Excuse me. Is that how you’re going out?”

Peter glances down at his outfit and then back outside. It wasn’t supposed to snow according to the weather. So he’d just worn his light jacket. “Mr. Stark it’s fine. The subway’s only like, a five minute walk from here anyway. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it? It’s minus a million out there and you’re wearing a rain jacket.”

“It’s still a jacket!” 

“It’s nonsense is what it is.” And Tony’s getting up, tugging off his thick cardigan as he comes. 

It’s a giant sweater, the kind that had a super thick lining that was so soft it was heavenly. The kind that was expensive and actually warm. Peter already knows what he’s going to do before he does it and he’s protesting, but to no avail. “Mr. Stark no, it’s fine, it’s totally-”

But Tony’s dunked the cardigan over his head. Peter’s head pops out from the top, his hair getting frizzy from the static. “Arms.” Tony commands and sheepishly, Peter pokes out his hands from the sleeves, smoothing everything down. 

“Ok. That’s better.” Tony says, examining him up and down.

“Mr. _Stark_.” Peter whines. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Sorry for wanting you to not die of hypothermia.”

“I wouldn’t _die_.” Peter says under his breath and Tony shoots him a look.

“Don’t make me call May.”

Peter’s eyes widen and his hands fly around, “No don’t! She told me to wear my winter jacket and I didn’t listen and she’ll gloat about it all day Mr. Stark, don’t!!”

Tony snorts, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Listen to your aunt next time kid.”

Peter pretends to push Tony’s hands away before waving. “See you later Mr. Stark. Maybe. If I don’t die or anything.” 

“Hey. Don’t joke.” 

But Peter just grins. When he walks out into the snow, he’s still pleasantly warm. He pulls his hands up the sleeves, curling the fabric around his fists and pressing his face against his covered palms. He’s warm. Like walking in a sunbeam. 

 

**4\. The Dress Shirt**

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night on the brink of an unnecessary panic fueled by teenage dramatics and nerves. “Mr. Stark!!” Peter wails.

“Tell me you’re not trapped in a ditch.” Tony says immediately.

“I’m not- no I’m not trapped in a ditch! This is serious!!” 

A sigh, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and then an exasperated, “Ok shoot kid.” And Peter’s off.

“Remember how I told you I joined DECA? Well I finished my proposal, the one you helped me with and the presentation went really well so they’re sending me to regionals-”

“That’s great Peter, congra-”

“There’s no time for that Mr. Stark, the regionals are super fancy and I’m!!- the opposite of fancy. I’m grungy. I’m pun-y. I’m _plebeian_.” 

And Peter doesn’t need super hearing to catch Tony trying to muffle his snickering, “You’re this worked up over an outfit? Jesus kid, just come by tomorrow. I’ll help you out.”

Peter sags into his bed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Wow. User alert.” 

“Hey! I offer hot chocolate and puns. What more do you really want from me?” 

Tony just laughs and they chatter a bit more before Peter hangs up, finally letting his body rest now that his worries have been put at ease. 

First thing after school the next day, Peter rushes to the tower, announcing his presence to FRIDAY and waiting impatiently in the living room for Tony to meet him. “Hey FRIDAY? Can you tell Mr. Stark if he doesn’t come and help me soon I’m going to spill all his coffee beans down the disposal?”

“TRAITOR!” Tony yells from behind him and Peter stifles a chuckle, turning around with an innocent smile.

“I thought you forgot about me.” He tries to look as unthreatening as possible but Tony rolls his eyes, pushing past him.

“Your bambi eyes won’t work on me. I know what you’re capable of.” 

“I threw out your tea leaves _one_ time.” Peter groans as Tony sticks his nose up in the air.

“I’m ignoring you because I refuse to have this conversation again.” 

Peter pokes him in the arm repeatedly, “Come on Mr. Stark, I’m sorry. Please don’t ignore me, I need to look really good tomorrow.”

Tony softens as he opens his bedroom door. “I’m sure you would look just fine in anything you have Pete.”

Peter frowns. “They’re super elitist Mr. Stark. And I heard they judge the way you look almost as much as the presentation part. Apparently, it’s real business training.” he says in air quotes, glum and put-out.

Tony’s lips press in a flat line. “Well that seems unfair. But unfortunately for them, you have a billionaire’s closet to shop through. You’re gonna blow their socks off kid.” 

He presents his closet with a flourish and Peter’s just a little intimidated by how many options there are. He’s always known Tony was a fashionista. But this is…this is just wild. His shirts are organized by colour and fabric, his suits lined up in a beautiful ombre, his accessories tucked neatly into little organizers. “Woah.” he breathes.

Tony just smirks.

“Ok so the truth is, you’re probably not going to fit into any of my recent stuff, but because I refuse to quit, I kept some of my stuff from when I was actually built like a superhero. Those should fit you fine.”

“Aww come on Mr. Stark, you’re a handsome fella.” Peter teases with a very badly implemented accent.

Tony makes a face. “Yeah, yeah. Now go on, pick something you like.” 

Tony plops down on a poof helpfully situated in the middle of the giant closet while Peter stares more or less idiotically at the rows of clothes. He skips past the silk shirts and goes for the more familiar broadcloth ones, pulling off a bright blue shirt and pressing it against himself experimentally. He turns to Tony, expression just begging for help and Tony, to his credit, just leans forward and walks him through the process without a sigh in sight. “Ok first of all, do you have your own suit or should we pick one up?”

“No. I have a suit. It used to be Ben’s but we got it retailored to fit me since it was cheaper. Hold on, I brought it with me…” he runs back to the living room to pick up his suit bag and pulls it out to show it off when Tony’s expression drops into one of scandalized horror as he stares at the turquoise shirt in his hand.

“And you thought that would be a good combination??”

Tony shoots up, shoving Peter onto the seat, tutting under his breath. “Honestly. What do they teach in you schools?” 

“I mean, I learned C++ yesterday-”

“-which means nothing,” Tony interrupts, “if you don’t know how to colour code for your big break meeting.”

“It’s not my fault! No one ever taught me.” Peter sulks before an odd weight settles over the room.

It’s like the lights all dim under the shadow of Ben’s death. Peter looks at the floor, embarrassed. He doesn’t want to see Tony soften, his shoulders slacken from their righteous indignation. But like always, Tony breaks the silence between them and says just the right thing. “Well it’s a good thing you got me then huh. No one knows formal attire better than moi.” 

Peter’s lip turns up helplessly but Tony’s already spun around, plucking a few shirts off the rack. “Okay. So with navy suits, you can either go plain white, a very, and I mean very, light blue, or a swanky pattern. But since this is a formal event, I’m thinking either this, this, or this.” He holds up a plain white shirt, a pale blue shirt with thin white stripes, and a white shirt with colour blots in various light cool colours. 

Peter looks at him helplessly and Tony sighs, tossing the shirts in his general direction. “Not to be too controversial, but you could always try them on, perhaps?” 

“No need to be _mean_ about it.” But Peter flashes him a small smile as he tries everything on. 

They settle for the stripes.

“It suits you kid. Definitely a look.” Tony nods, then claps his hands, “Ok now for the fun stuff, ties and belt.”

“The key to a good suit is picking a tie colour that’s darker than your shirt for that signature pop. And then getting the tie dimple just right.”

Peter’s head is spinning. “Tie dimple??”

Tony gestures to his own tie, where a perfect, effortless little indent peeks out underneath his knot. “This makes the entire look. It says I’m classy, but I’m not trying.” 

“Yeah uhh, I can barely do a normal tie actually.” 

Tony gives him a look. “You’re a genius. Learn.” 

“Ok so we’ll throw in a burgundy tie, come here, let me show you how.” 

Tony grabs a tie for himself and slowly, he walks Peter through the process, his voice low and gentle, hands slow. It takes Peter three tries, but by the fourth, he has a perfect knot, with an effortless indent and he pops the collar down, grinning. He turns to Tony, looking ridiculously pleased with himself and Tony ruffles his hair, proud. “Good job kid. Just make sure you remember it this weekend.” 

“Oh God what if I forget. I’m probably gonna forget.” 

Tony pokes him in the forehead to get him to calm down, something utterly amused twinkling in his eye. “You’re not going to forget. And if you do just video call me. I’ll lecture you and remind you in three minutes tops.” Peter’s smiles, small and relieved. 

“Anyway, for the final touches, we have your belt, which has to match your shoes, which have to be brown.” Tony purses his lips as he stares at his belt collection before pulling down a Prada one.

He examines it a bit more before handing it to Peter and gesturing for him to put it on. “Now tuck in your shirt- flash the belt- there you go.” And Peter stands awkwardly as Tony assesses him like a jeweller. 

“Okay, now finishing touch.” 

Tony walks to the end of the closet where a little array of what looks like ring boxes are laid out. There’s one box though, it’s worn, its colour faded where it’s been opened and closed. Tony brushes the top, turning his face just a little to glance at Peter, the subtlest of smiles across his lips. 

As though he’s made a decision, he grasps the box firmly, opening it up for Peter to show him the simple silver cuff-links inside. On the face, a delicate tree is etched into the surface and Peter can tell these have been worn with love from how many times Tony’s fingers have brushed across their surfaces. 

“When I graduated from MIT, I had gotten into a huge fight with my dad over something I can’t even remember anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with him and I was going to blow off the whole ceremony to piss him off when Rhodey came back to our dorm and gave me these.” His fingers trace the metal. 

“We had watched a movie the other day and it was this super deep stuff we didn’t really get but there was this part about this tree and love and how sometimes the people that nourish you so you can bloom are the family you find, not the family you have.” Tony smiles and it’s rife with nostalgia and an intense loyalty and adoration that blows Peter away. 

“So Rhodey saw these and he was basically a broke ass student but he bought them for me anyway and he asked his mom to bring back some of his old clothes so I could wear something Howard hadn’t bought and he told me under no uncertain terms was I to miss our graduation because he was gonna graduate with me dammit because he deserved it.” Tony’s eyes sparkle and Peter understands why these cufflinks were his favourite despite the rest being embellished with diamonds and gold. 

“I think they’d look great on you.” Tony announces, setting the box down to pin the first link through Peter’s sleeve.

“Besides, every man needs a good pair of cufflinks.”

“Wait- I can’t, I can’t _keep_ these.” Peter sputters.

“Too bad. Already gave them to you.” Tony replies, in that annoying way of his.

“But your story- they’re obviously important.” he protests, still unable to pull his wrists away despite his words.

“Stories are only important because we get to pass them down. And I can’t think of a better person to pass this one down to than you.”

Peter stares, caught in a feeling that overwhelms him. He ducks his head, looking instead at the brightness of the silver against his sleeve. “Thanks Mr. Stark.” he whispers. He doesn’t know what more he can possibly say to express how thankful he was the universe set their courses together. 

Tony just smiles. 

Five seconds later and Tony’s snapping dozens of photos, making Peter move from pose to pose. “Oh my god is this how parents feel when their kids go to prom?” Tony muses as he holds his phone up.

“Well I wouldn’t know considering I might DIE from EMBARSSMENT before I get to go.” Peter mutters, a blush tattooed on his face.

“Hush you, May’s gonna die when I send her these, you’re too much right now.” 

“Mr. Stark!!” 

But despite all the teasing and the jabs, Peter looks in the mirror and feels good. Really, really good. And when he’s standing in front of the panel, judges staring coldly at him, the anxiety he thought he’d feel melts away as his fingers brush Tony’s- his- cufflinks. He’s wearing Tony’s clothes and his tie has the perfect dimple and his shoes match his belt and somehow, it’s like he has Tony’s confidence too. 

Peter is cool and collected and smart. He speaks and the words flow and he unbuttons his suit deftly with one hand when he goes to sit down when the winners are announced. His fingers brush against the engraving of a tree. Love is found, not given. Love nourishes you. It watches you grow. 

Love makes him confident. 

Peter whips out his phone. Tony’s cell pings. 

_Two notifications from: Spider-Squad_

_Spiderkid: I GOT INTO NATIONALS!!!!_  
_Spiderkid: AND A GIRL SAID I LOOKED REALLY GOOD AND ASKED FOR MY INSTA!!_

 

**5\. All Together**

Happy decides to take May out for a few days at a lovely little cottage in the French Riviera. When May found the tickets and bookings in the little envelope Happy slid over to her at dinner one day, she burst right into tears. “You do so much for everyone.” Happy had said, “I just wanted to do something nice for you too. This isn’t even a fraction of what you deserve, but we have our whole lives right?”

And even Peter had to admit that was ridiculously sweet. Sickeningly so. 

So May packed her bags and kissed him on his cheek and hugged him tight. She had never left him before and while she was excited to go, she’d miss him just as much. But he did his best to assure her that everything would be alright, and that Tony would be good guardian until she came back. 

This was technically a good opportunity. As of now, he still had the MIT sweater, the dress shirt, the AC/DC t-shirt and the cardigan. And it wasn’t really _stealing_ because Tony had _given_ them to him, but he was probably supposed to have given them back at some point. So, Peter sighed, packing the shirts up in his overnight bag and taking the subway up to the tower. 

Tony isn’t there when he arrives, but it’s only four and while he isn’t CEO anymore, that wasn’t to say he was done with SI business. Peter throws his bag on the couch, flicks on the tv and just switches between channels more or less mindlessly. Half an hour later, he flops on his stomach, pulling out his phone.

_Hey Mr. Stark! I was gonna make pasta or something but my legs refuse to move so I’m just gonna order take out instead. I’m feeling Chinese you?_

Peter frowns as his phone remains silent. Tony usually always texted back right away. Especially at work. But five minutes turn into ten turn into fifteen and Peter grabs his phone again. 

_I’ll just grab you chow mein and extra sweet and sour_

A beat, and then,

_Maybe some spring rolls_

Peter pats his hand around his bag, trying to find his laptop, but when he opens his browser, he finds his appetite is completely gone. 

Still, he doesn’t want Tony to come back hungry with nothing to eat. So he orders the food anyway and closes his laptop shut, something hardening like a coil inside him. The food comes forty minutes later and Peter lays it all out on the table in neat symmetrical arrays. He adjusts the spot of the fried rice three times before just leaving it, unable to stop from looking back at the door. 

He calls Tony at seven. Which meant he really wanted to call at five but didn’t want to look clingy. The call doesn’t go through, just says the caller is unavailable and to try again later.  
The food has gotten cold an hour ago and Peter still has no desire to eat any of it. He calls again just to double check but when it fails to connect again, he takes his phone off vibrate and increases the volume to the highest setting. 

He has no idea who to call. He has no idea what to do. His first thought is to ask Happy but he’s on a plane to France. He thinks about Rhodey. Maybe even Pepper. But he worries that if he calls he might make a problem from nothing and make an even bigger mess but he has to know what happened, he has to know. 

He was just supposed to be at work. 

He should’ve been home by now. 

Afraid but desperately not wanting to be, Peter reaches inside his bag, pulls out the MIT hoodie he took so long ago and brings it up to his nose. It smells like laundry now. But it’s soft against his face. He tugs it on, curling on the couch, pulling the hood over his head, sleeves over his hands. The hoodie feels gigantic, heavy and solid around him. He closes his eyes, tries to even his breaths. 

Wrapped in Tony’s hoodie, he feels faith. 

Tony will come home. He always comes home. He fought aliens and terrorists and supervillain wannabees and even his own inner demons and he always pulled through. Peter just had to wait. 

He could do that. 

But his anxiety is tiring. Worry is exhausting. It nibbles at his bones, wears down his heart. His eyes flutter and he struggles to stay awake to see Tony walk through the doors. But helplessly, he drifts off. He can’t help it. It’s just so warm. Like being in the sun. And it’s soft. Like someone was hugging him hello. 

Hours later, in the dead of the night, Tony stumbles into the tower, worry lines creasing his face and looking worse for wear. There’s an ache that strikes deep to his core and he just wants to sleep or yell or _somethingsomething_ but the first thought in his mind is Peter and he rushes to tell FRIDAY to turn on the lights and tell him where Peter is when Tony catches sight of him curled up tightly on the couch. 

He has his phone clutched in his hand, close to his ear as though to ensure he wouldn’t miss a sound. There’s a frown on Peter’s face, like he’s caught in a bad dream and Tony can’t help but sit next to his head, letting his fingers brush over his cheek, feather light. It’s then he notices the hoodie. His smile blooms like spring, slowly, then all at once and he feels his heart expand so big it feels fit to burst. 

He’s a good kid. The greatest kid. And Tony doesn’t know what he did to deserve this kind of love. Different from every other kind. His friends loved him despite his mistakes but Peter loved him as though he had never made any. As though he could never make any. It was a blind faith born of admiration. The kind children felt about their parents when they were young and thought the word adulthood meant something tangible. It was a love born from looking up to him, idolizing him, wanting to be like him. It was a forgiving love. One that felt like absolution. That he was bigger than his demons and greater than his mistakes and that he was a good man. Something he wanted to be more desperately than anything. Even more than being a hero. 

Gently, he pulls the phone out of Peter’s hand and sets it on the coffee table. He reaches for the recliner, pulling the throw off and tucking Peter in. He brushes his fingers through his hair one last time, moving to get up before Peter’s hand stops him. He grabs Tony’s wrist, eyes blinking groggily. “Misser. St’rk?” 

“Hey Pete.” he whispers, smoothing out Peter’s hair with his free hand. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I came so late.” 

“No it’s okay I-” he yawns, his whole face squishing into something ridiculously adorable, “I got you noodles. Cuz you’re hungry.” he says, like it’s a fact.

And shit Tony loves him. 

To pieces, to death, to all eternity. 

“You hungry?” he murmurs. 

“Not really.” Peter answers, pushing himself up and rubbing at his eyes.

He blinks, like he’s suddenly realizing he’s awake and he stares at Tony bug-eyed. “You’re back!” 

Tony snorts, hiding his laugh behind his hand. “Yup. In the flesh.”

“Where were you?? I tried calling but they wouldn’t go through and I was worried something had happened but I didn’t know what to do and-”

Tony smushes a hand against Peter’s mouth. “I know. I’m sorry, that’s Fury’s bad.”

“Nick Fury??” Peter mumbles behind Tony’s hand and Tony finally pulls away.

He sighs, throwing himself against the couch. “He more or less kidnapped me because of some ‘credible threat’ against me or whatever. I told him it was fine but he’s one stubborn son of a bitch.” 

“There was a _threat_ against you??” Peter’s heart races and he can’t help himself, he opens his senses up as far as they can go as though he can smoke out an intruder in the shadows.

“Peter, there are always threats against me. I’m Iron Man.” Tony says with the confidence of a man without a single fear, “And yet here I am.”

Peter looks unconvinced and Tony just lets out a little breath, poking him in the forehead, letting his hand fall to his cheek. “I’m fine Peter. You don’t have to worry about me. That’s not your job.” 

“Can’t help it.” he mumbles and Tony just smiles.

“You know I love you, right?”

Peter blinks, staring at him, dazed. “And I’m sorry I freaked you out. I kept telling him to let me at least tell you I was okay since I knew you’d be walking a hole through my floor with your pacing, but Fury’s just the worst. Never work with him Peter. I mean it.” 

“I don’t wanna anyway. SHIELD’s so-” he waves his hand around with a tired expression.

“That is highly factual and extremely accurate.” 

Peter sways, looking just about ready to sleep again and Tony gently leads him back down so hid head falls against the pillow. “The noodles.” Peter says, pointing vaguely in the direction he hopes the table’s at.

“I’ll eat, I’ll eat. Relax kid.” 

“And your shirts.” he says sleepily, eyes already closed. “I brought them back for you…but I took out your hoodie…sorry.”

“Keep it kiddo. It’s yours. Now go to sleep. It’s late and we have a full day of activities May and Pepper won’t let us do when they’re around ahead of us.” 

Peter smiles dreamily and Tony takes one last look at him before he grabs a container of something or other to head down to his room. Before he goes though, Peter shifts in his sleep and says the greatest thing Tony’s ever heard, “Love you Tony.” 

 

**+1 It’s All Pun and Games**

It’s Game Night at the Parker household which means Tony, Pepper, Happy, Ned, May, and Peter are all crammed in the living room arguing over Balderdash answers when May and Tony move at the exact same time and her red wine spills all across his shirt. She’s aghast, shooting off apologies as she pats at his chest with nearby napkins. 

“It’s fine May, don’t worry. It’s an old shirt, close to its final days anyway.” Tony assures her, staring at the growing stain across his chest.

May just winces. “Oh God it looks I shot you.” 

Tony snorts, staring down with a comical appraisement. “I mean, yeah, a little hole in my shirt and maybe some more drama, I could totally be a CSI extra.” 

“Peter, why don’t you give Tony something to wear for now.” 

Peter catches Tony eye and he looks positively _giddy_. “No. I object. I refused to wear a chemistry pun t-shirt. _No_.” 

Pepper wrinkles her nose. “And I don’t want to sit next to a sticky fiancée either. Go change.” 

“You won’t be nearly as attracted to me.” Tony warns and Pepper just rolls her eyes, amused.

“I think I’ll manage somehow.”

“Come on Mr. Stark, with _my_ wardrobe? You’ll look sweeter than 3.14.” 

Tony just groans. 

He follows Peter into his bedroom where he’s practically bouncing off the walls to get him into something mortifying he can post on Instagram later. “You know, you could technically just give me my hoodie to wear.” Tony points out, flopping on the bed, resigned to his fate.

“Uhh you mean _my_ hoodie? I’m pretty sure you gave it to me. Like, ages ago.” Peter retorts, rummaging around in his closet. 

“I’m filled with regret.” Tony announces. With extra drama.

“Tragic.” 

Finally, Peter pulls out a grey t-shirt with type-writer font. “Oh Jesus.” Tony sighs before holding out a hand to begrudgingly take it.

“This one’s hilarious, I don’t know why you’re complaining.” Peter retorts, the widest grin Tony’s ever seen spreading across his face.

“You’re a horrible child. You’re killing me. You’re killing your mentor.” 

“Love you!” Peter laughs and it rolls of his tongue so easy, so light, that it makes Tony’s heart clench a little. 

Peter shuts the door behind him and Tony can hear him shush the others in preparation for his grand entrance. With a tired sigh, Tony pulls the offending shirt over his head, not needing to smooth it out from how tight it fits before throwing on his sunglasses and swooping out into the living room like he was wearing Gucci and not the clearance rack from Wal-Mart.

A phone camera goes off, then two, then three and everyone’s bursting into hysterics. And really, Tony can’t blame them. The shirt is at least two sizes to small, showing just a hint of his stomach and every contour of his chest. The shirt itself has ALL THE GOOD PUNS ARGON with the element being in its periodic table form. All in all, it’s a ridiculous unnecessary shirt in every sense of the word but Peter’s laughing so hard Tony can’t even hate it all that much. 

“Take your photos now because after I go home I’m burning it.” he announces, grabbing May’s glass of wine from her hand to take a long, dramatic sip.

“Mr. Stark! I love that shirt!!”

“Says you shirt thief.” 

Peter sputters. “It’s not _theft_ it’s…long term borrowing.” 

“Ok then I’m long term borrowing your bad pun shirt. Thanks Pete!” 

Peter snatches the candy bowl from out of Tony’s reach, munching aggressively on a gummy bear. “I’m stealing your Black Sabbath shirt.” Peter retorts.

Tony gasps. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Boys, boys, boys, there’s an obvious way to settle this, first one to win the game wins any shirt of their choice.” Pepper says, handing Tony the die. “Your turn Tony.”

Across the coffee table, Peter catches Tony’s eye, and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a 5+1 before so I hope it turned out alright, but damn was it harder than I thought it was going to be.


End file.
